Serkets, Druids, and Winchesters, Oh My!
by MroseD
Summary: "So we got giant bugs killing wannabee druids." Sam and Dean are on a case, and it turns out to be a bit more than the bargained for. But then a mysterious old man appears in the nick of time, who goes by the name "Emrys". Who is Emrys? and more importantly, can he save Dean's life? Rated T for language and mild gore
1. Chapter 1

**AN: There shouldn't be any spoilers… set sometime during early Supernatural, and after the end of Merlin's season 5. Only spoilers would really be Merlin's fate at the end of the series, the existence of the serket, and maybe a few bits from Merlin Season 2 Episode 3 and Season 3 Episodes 1 & 2**

The two men sat in a small motel room at an even smaller table. The taller of the two was hunched over a laptop, and scribbling notes on a note pad. The other was leaning back on the back legs of the wooden chair, flipping through a magazine, and absentmindedly eating a slice of cherry pie.

"Find anything yet Sammy?"

"Maybe- come check this out Dean…" A muted thump ensued as the chair fell back to its intended position, and the man sitting in it, Dean, stood up and walked to Sam's side, pie plate in hand, and fork in mouth. "See here," Sam said, pointing to an article he had brought up on the computer's screen. "At least three hikers found dead in the woods- all with what look like giant bug bites of sorts- but here's the thing," Sam clicked over to the next page. "The town at the edge of the woods the hikers were found in has a local cult of 'druids' that suddenly disappeared around the same time as the attacks."

"So you found mysterious wannabee druids and giant bugs?" Dean asked, right before scooping another piece of pie into his mouth.

"Well, yeah. I did some more digging, and I found something interesting. All three victims were members of the missing druid cult."

"So we got giant bugs killing wannabee druids."

"That's what it looks like." Sam shrugged. "Wanna check it out?"

"Hell yeah. Come on Sammy!" Dean scarfed down the last of his pie, before grabbing his gun off of the table, tucking it in his pants, and racing out the door. Still sitting at the table, Sam sighed, closed his computer, and took both it and their unpacked luggage as he followed his brother out the door.

* * *

Sam and Dean stood in the middle of the dark woods, Dean eyeing the shadows suspiciously, while Sam consulted his map.

"It should be around here somewhere… this is the only place in common with all three victim's hiking routes." Sam muttered, still gazing at the map.

"Yeah well, hurry up Sammy- I'd rather not be caught unawares by whatever ugly killed those hikers." Dean felt an involuntary shudder run up his spine as he recalled the bodies from the morgue. Those had been more than just large bug bites- they were larger than Dean's fist, and only just smaller than a dinner plate. Before the mental picture could go into further detail, Dean pushed it out of his mind and examined the area around the clearing they were in. A particularly dark group of shadows caught his eye, and as he walked closer to investigate, the shadows revealed themselves to be the mouth of a cave. "Hey Sammy! I think I found its den!"

He waited a moment for his brother, and then the two of them held their guns out in front of them and journeyed inside the dark cavern. Almost immediately, the air became cooler, and the deeper they traveled, the more the darkness seemed to become something tangible. Sam pulled a flashlight from his back pocket, flipped it on, and held it next to his gun. Dean did the same, but the twin beams of light did little to combat the crushing darkness. It seemed the shadows around them were writhing- closing in, just barely held at bay by the weak light of the flashlights.

"Dean…" Sam began quietly, only to be interrupted by an explosive swear from his brother. Sam stopped and looked over at him, only to see Dean staring at the ground, his expression unreadable. Sam glanced down where his brother was looking, and his own swear slipped past his lips. There on the ground, illuminated by the beam of Dean's flashlight, was a young woman. Her skin was pale, eyes staring unseeingly ahead, and an expression of pain etched into her features. Sam crouched down next to her, and quickly confirmed what they both saw. She was dead. Sam sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Dean soon crouched next to the girl as well, and he ran his flashlight's beam across her body, until it rested on her left arm- where an enormous bug bite- same as the ones on the three victims'- was on full display.

"Damn it. How many more do you think the cops missed?" Dean asked, not looking at Sam, but rather, the young woman's arm. When he didn't receive an answer, he looked up, only to see Sam grimly examining the cave ahead of them.

"Take a look for yourself." Dean got up and walked up to Sam, only to stop dead in his tracks at the sight before them. The beam of light from Sam's flashlight was roaming the floor ahead of them, and as it travelled, more bodies were revealed. An arm there- a torso here.

"Looks like we found the missing druid cult." Sam said, holding up a strange pendant he had found on one of the bodies. Symbols were etched into it, and similar symbols could be found on most, if not all, of the bodies. "These are definitely druidic symbols, although, I don't know what they mean." Sam said again, tossing the pendant to Dean, who caught it easily. He examined it , holding it up and shining the light on it, before grunting and pocketing it for later.

The distinctive bug-bites that marked the skin of the three victims, and now the woman, showed themselves on the flesh in front of them. As the brothers grimly inspected the bodies before them, they saw that often, these bodies had more than one bite on it. And still the worst part was yet to come. Most of the bodies looked as if they had been chewed on by some large insect. At that discovery, both brothers felt a chill run down their spine.

"Man. I hate bugs. Especially big bugs." Dean muttered. Sam remained silent, examining the bites on the newest victims.

"Hey Dean… I don't think these are Bug Bites…" Sam started, beckoning his brother over. Dean grunted and went over, looking as Sam pointed things out to him. "The more I look at these, the more they look like…well, like Scorpion stings. But I've never seen anything this size or intensity before." Dean frowned at Sam's newest discovery.

"Great. Now we aren't dealing with giant beetles, but giant scorpions. That's just fantastic. Whatever happened to a good ol' salt and burn? What I wouldn't do for a deranged ghost right now." Sam ignored his brother, and stood up from his crouched position.

"Now what? Do you want to go in further, or head back and do some research?" He asked, gazing at Dean. His older brother didn't answer right away, thinking it over.

"You know what- let's just get this over with. We've got rock salt, silver bullets, normal bullets, holy water- and I think I've got a can of OFF in Baby. Come on." The two held their guns at ready once again, and proceeded deeper into the cave, but with more caution this time.

As they slowly made their way further, the two became aware of a presence behind them. It started with the hair on the back of their necks prickling- and then they thought they heard a thump behind them. When they couldn't find anything, they just shrugged and turned back around- only to whirl around when they heard a distinctive tapping behind them.

"Show yourself!" Dean shouted, his gun aimed and ready to shoot anything that moved in front of them. Nothing happened. The tension grew as the nerves of both brothers started to act up, their fingers itching to pull the trigger. And then, they felt something jump behind them. Too slowly they whirled back around- just in time to see an enormous scorpion- easily the size of a fully grown man- jump out at them, its stinger raised and ready to strike. A shout echoed from behind them- a word that neither of them caught- and then the cave was blindingly bright and scorchingly hot. A large jet of fame rushed past them, just missing Sam's head- and engulfed the scorpion heading towards them. It shrieked and writhed in pain, before falling to the floor, dead, in a charred heap.

For a moment, nothing happened- and then Sam and Dean turned around together- guns aimed at the figure behind them. But they stopped just short of shooting at the surprise of the sight before them. Whatever they had been expecting, it wasn't this. There, standing in front of them, was an old man.

His beard was long and white, is back hunched with age, and he held a large, knarled staff. Dean stared at the old man in confusion, while Sam took the innovative. "Who are you? And how did you do that?" He questioned, jerking his gun behind him to indicate the charred corpse of the giant scorpion.

The old man held his hands up in surrender, but looked oddly calm for having to guns pointed at him. "I am Emrys, and I am here to help." He stated. Dean took a step closer to him.

"You didn't answer the second question. How did you do the fire thing?" Dean's voice was hard, leaving to room for argument.

"The druids called me for help- I don't usually do this sort of thing, but serkets are supposed to be extinct- the last one died ages ago. So, I decided to intervene. Fire was the best way- it's a simple spell, really."

Sam and Dean's eyes hardened. Spell? Was this old man some sort of witch? And he claimed to be called by the druids. Sam didn't know much about the elusive people, and Dean even less, but both had decided long ago that anything unknown was dangerous- especially if it was magical. The unknown could get you killed, and the magical unknown could get you killed faster.

All three were so focused on each other that they missed the presence slowly creeping up behind the two brothers. The old man, Emrys, realized too late- and called out a warning just before another of the giant scorpions, a serket, lunged from the shadows and plunged its stinger into Dean's back.

 **AN: thank you for reading! This is only the first chapter, there will probably be one (maybe two) more. I have the ending all planned out, but I didn't want this one to run on forever. Please leave a review after reading! It's greatly appreciated and will encourage me to get the continuation or sooner! Next chapter will involve more Merlin, promise! And I'm thinking about a guest Bobby appearance.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: so, here's the second chapter! woo :) thank you all for your feedback, follows, and favorites! This bit follows Merlin instead of our favorite boys. Only one more chapter left!**

 _ **To the guest reviewer:**_

 _ **Thank you for your feedback! You'll find out about Dean's fate in the next chapter, so I don't want to give anything away just yet...so you'll just have to wait and see ;)**_

* * *

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and he felt his magic bubble to the surface, rising instinctively to protect. The serket flew backwards, away from the two men he had found bumbling in the cave. _Idiots_. He thought. Just who did they think they were? Exploring strange caves, especially _after_ finding dead bodies in it? Merlin almost snorted in disbelief. And Arthur had called _him_ an idiot. Well, he supposed he should probably save the idiots now.

Merlin turned his attention back to the two. The taller of the two was crouched next to his fallen comrade, trying to hoist him up. "Take him and leave the cave, _now_ \- it'll be back, serkets always travel in packs. And when you get outside, be careful. They like to surround and circle their prey." He saw that the taller idiot was about to object, but with another glance at the wounded one stopped his objection before he could voice it. He nodded once, and started making his way back to towards the entrance.

 _Now to take care of the rest of the serkets,_ Merlin thought. He strode towards the one he had pushed back with his magic, and with another murmured spell and a flash of gold, the beast caught on fire, hissing and squealing in its death throws. Merlin felt a pang of pity for it- it was a creature of magic, a creature of the old religion after all. But he couldn't leave them be, they had died out centuries ago for a reason, and their existence now set off the precarious balance that the old religion demanded.

Merlin proceeded into the depths of the cave with caution, remembering the sheer numbers these things traveled in- he had to make sure he got every single one. As he walked, his mind wandered back to his reason for being here.

There had been a group of people in the nearby town who fancied themselves druids. They weren't _actually_ druids, naturally- but they had managed to find some of the lesser known rituals and tomes of the druid people. As far as Merlin could gather, they had accidentally summed a serket during one of their "bi-weekly rituals", the problem being that they didn't really have a clue what they were doing. Realizing their error, the druid-cult called out to _Emrys_ for guidance. At the time, Merlin had been taking a stroll around the lake by his cottage, but when his druidic name was invoked, the old religion called out to him, luring him to America.

By the time he got there however, the druids had tried to take matters into their own hands and seek the serket out on their own. Little did they know how quickly it multiplied, hiding in a cave deep in the local forest with its spawn. The poor people hadn't seen their error 'till it was too late, and Merlin felt a wrench of sorrow tug at his heart, even while the old religion seemed partly satisfied with the exchange- the life given to the serkets traded for the life of their summoners. It was a cruel master, the old religion was- but only if it was manipulated against nature. And serkets here and now were most definitely against nature.

He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, resuming his search of the cave, no matter how much Merlin wasn't looking forward to meeting the one that had first been summoned. By now, it could easily be the size of a horse, or larger. The cavern soon gave way to a larger cave, and Merlin slowed as he heard the scuttle of legs and hissing of many creatures milling about. Taking a deep breath, the centuries old sorcerer jumped into the entrance to the new cavern, and before the many creatures inside could react, he raised his staff and shouted " _Forbærne yfel_ _!"_ A ring of fire encased the cavern, surrounding the serkets. They hissed and clacked their large front pinchers, but Merlin saw that they were all backing into the center, away from the flames. On Merlin's silent command, the flames grew, nearly engulfing the cave, and as their squeals got louder, Merlin shouted once more, " _Miere torr sweoloþhat!"_ With a flash of light, the ring of fire exploded, sending shudders through the cave walls, and quickly engulfing the contents of the room. Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and as the cave shuddered and collapsed around him, the rock met with an invisible barrier around the warlock, leaving him safe from the collapsing ceiling.

As quickly as he could, Merlin made his way out of the collapsing cave, eyes flashing as fallen rocks moved out of his way or hit his invisible shield. Just as he stumbled out into the fresh air of the forest, he felt the ground beneath him shudder one last time, and the mouth of the cave collapsed behind him.

Wasting no time, Merlin made his way over to the two figures at the tree line- one on the ground, and the other wordily watching over him. With a speed more befitting a twenty year old that a centuries old man, Merlin soon arrived at their side.

"We need to hurry, come on. The serkets have been taken care of, but their venom in extremely potent. Come on." He bent down and hoisted the wounded idiot up, supporting one side with his shoulder, while his tall companion did likewise on the other side.

"Do you know how to help him?"

"Yes- but we haven't much time. Hold on to him tightly, we need to go somewhere else, since I haven't got the right materials here." Before the other man could reply, Merlin started chanting under his breath, and channeled his power in the staff in his hand.

He could feel it as the magic flowed through him, brushing just under his skin, a feather light touch that had the power of a raging river. It welled up inside him, and through his arm, into the sidhe staff where it could be focused. It was a spell Merlin was hesitant to do, especially with two companions, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He felt a huge gust of wind, which smelt not of the forest around them, but a different one- one that Merlin called home. And then, with the wind howling in their ears, drowning out all other sound, their eyes closed to protect against it, and the only sensation that of the wind whipping against their skin and the warm bodies next to each other, Merlin forced the last bit of magic into the staff, and with a flash of light, the wind vanished.

The old warlock opened his eyes to the welcome sight of his cottage, and though he felt pleasure that the spell had worked, a wave of exhaustion hit him. He shrugged of the weight of the wounded man, and leaning heavily on his staff, hobbled his way over to the front door. Merlin felt as though he could feel the wear and tear of all those centuries in his bones now, as he always did after the truly exhausting feats of magic.

He unlocked the door with a wave of his hand, and glanced behind him before walking in, only to see the two idiots still standing where he had left them. Or rather, the ridiculously tall idiot standing there looking at him as though he had suddenly sprouted another head, and the wounded idiot leaning on his companion's shoulder, slipping in and out of consciousness.

"Well, what are you standing around there for? I haven't got all day! If you want him to see another day, you'd better hurry up!" And with that, Merlin _harrumphed_ , and proceeded into the house, not glancing back again. He felt a faint stab of regret for his harsh tone but _really,_ why was the tall one just standing there when his companion so obviously needed help? Merlin couldn't fathom it- had humanity learned nothing since the dark ages?

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading! So, Merlin isn't _quite_ the Merlin we all know and love; but I'm attributing that to the fact that he's about fifteen hundred years old, and that he just had to fight a swarm of serkets. Please leave a review! _Constructive_ criticism is always welcome!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So sorry for the long wait! It looks like this _won't_ be the last chapter after all, and hopefully I'll have the next one out sooner rather than later. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, as is any and all feedback. I feel as if this chapter was a tad rushed, so if you notice any errors, please tell me! Thank you!**

* * *

Sam could feel Dean's clammy skin as his grip on Dean grew tighter. Dean's breathing was shallow, almost gasping, and he was quickly becoming a dead weight as he struggled for consciousness. At this point, Sam's only thought was for his brother; and so his mind barely registered the crazy wind or the change of scenery, until the old man, Emrys, opened the door. Without touching it. The full gravity of the situation fell on Sam at once, and he froze, overwhelmed, until a gruff voice shattered his shock, "Well, what are you standing around there for? I haven't got all day! If you want him to see another day, you'd better hurry up!" Sam obediently followed, his mind racing to catch up with what had just happened.

He nearly froze again when he stepped inside of the unassuming little cottage. The inside was much bigger than it appeared to be. To his right was a good-sized living space. The outer wall was filled with bookcases that stretched up to the ceiling, each crammed tight with books. An assortment of paintings and photos were hung on the opposite wall- _and did that painting just move?_

"Put him over here." Sam tore himself away from the sight and hurried towards Emrys. The old man was standing in an opened arched doorway that Sam could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago. The new room was definitely some sort of medical room, with a decidedly medieval twist. Bottles of mysterious substances lined shelves, books with strange diagrams were open on a long wooden table. A mortar and pestle lay next to the books, with plants half ground inside. Sam hurried towards a long hospital-like bed that Emrys was gesturing towards.

As carefully as he could, Sam helped his brother onto the bed. He was soon joined by the old man, who had returned with a vial of some strange brown liquid. "Here, give this to him, it will numb the pain and help slow the serket venom. It will give us a few hours to work with." Shoving the vial into Sam's hands, the old man then turned on his heal and walked back towards his table, grabbing an assortment of books and ingredients along the way.

Sam's thoughts however, were focused solely on his brother. Without questioning, Sam uncorked the vial, winced at the foul smell, and then slowly poured it into Dean's mouth. Only half conscious, it took Dean a while to drink the concoction, but as soon as he had, Sam saw Dean's body visibly relax as the elder brother fell asleep.

Satisfied with Dean's momentary turn for the better, Sam was finally allowed the peace of mind to think about what had just happened. Which he soon vocalized.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Sam's voice was laced with anger and his gaze was focused on Emrys. "You had better stark talking." The old man was grinding ingredients with his mortar and pestle, but looked up at Sam, and raised an eyebrow.

"That was me saving your Friend's life." The old man's voice was still harsh and worn, but, unless Sam imagined it, it had a bit of a warmer tinge.

Sam, however, was unsatisfied with the answer. "Who are you? How the _hell_ did we get here? And what was that that you gave my brother?" The old man's gaze hardened, and he put down the equipment he was working with.

"I told you, I'm Emrys. Now you listen here _boy,_ it was lucky that I got to you and your brother when I did. Who do you think you are, running into strange caves, especially _after_ finding bodies in them? It was almost as if you two were _looking_ for trouble…" Emrys trailed off, and his expression morphed from its previous agitation, to revelation, and then suspicion.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say two were friends with Gwaine or King Pratt for how bull headed you are…looking for trouble like that…but no. I am I correct in assuming that you and your brother are hunters?"

Sam wasn't able to hide his momentary surprise. But then in fit didn't it? The unexplainable that had just occurred. The man in front of him was a witch. Immediately, Sam drew his gun and aimed it at Emrys.

"What did you give my brother?" He quickly patted down the bed Dean was in, searching for hex bags, and never once taking his eyes off of Emrys.

"Calm down you idiot. It was a simple tonic for pain, enhanced to slow down the effects of serket venom. And you won't find any hex bags in my house, so you can quit looking for them!" Emrys' voice gained a decidedly annoyed tone with the last sentence. "I am not one of those damned witches you hunters are so fond of hunting. Demons are nasty creatures, and I for one, refuse to deal with them."

Sam paused in his search for hex bags, but didn't lower his gun. "So if you're not a witch, what are you?" Emrys' only response was to glare at Sam. "Well?"

"Well what does it matter what I am? I'm only trying to help! Who knows _why_ , but apparently, you two somehow important to this world." The gun remained pointed at Emrys' chest. That was the wrong move, because the old man huffed in annoyance, and with only a flash of gold in his eyes as warning, the gun flew out of Sam's hand and onto the table next to Emrys.

"There. Much better. I am not a violent man _hunter_ , and I prefer it if we kept things civil. You may have it back when you and your brother leave." Someone else might have been able to recognize the mirth dancing in the old man's eyes as he said this, but Sam was a bit preoccupied. "Now, I can't work with you dawdling in here and quite possibly trying to kill me, so I'll have to ask you to leave." With this, the old man grinned and shooed his hands at Sam, and try as he might, Sam couldn't help but walk out into the other room. As soon as he had crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him and with a * _click_ * locked.

"Don't worry Mr. Hunter. I will do everything in my power to help your Brother."


End file.
